


Duo

by fadagaski



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, Favourable Furiosa-to-Max Orgasm Ratio, Furiosa is the most eaten out character in fandom history, Half-Brothers, Hint of Angst, I Blame Tumblr, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, No Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Surprise Siblings, Threesome - M/F/M, mild panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5431187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadagaski/pseuds/fadagaski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max's half-brother (also called 'Max') turns up at Citadel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duo

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this conversation and gifset](http://bassfanimation.tumblr.com/post/135233158386/fadagaski-tterrymcginnis-max-rockatansky) on tumblr (I totally blame [@bassfanimation](http://bassfanimation.tumblr.com/) for everything).
> 
> Apologies that Mel!Max is probably OOC. I haven't seen the original trilogy in a very long time.

When someone turned up at the guarded entrance to Citadel wearing a tatty black leather jacket and limping badly on one leg, claiming to be called 'Max', the guards were naturally suspicious and sent a runner to Furiosa.

Furiosa was on her back in her room with her own Max's head buried between her thighs, her fingers tugging at his hair as she shivered and moaned. 

The sharp knock on the door made her jump. Max paused for half a second before continuing exactly what he was doing before, only with a lot more haste. Furiosa had to bite the pillow to keep from screaming as he sucked and licked and fucked her with his tongue and she came with a drenched pulse. 

The runner was still at the door when she opened it five minutes later, cheeks flushed and eyes bright and her legs a little shaky. Max looked out the window, wiping his face absently with the bottom of his shirt. 

"Oh!" said the boy, looking past her - Led, she thought he might be. "He's here already." 

Furiosa raised an eyebrow. 

"It's just - there's a man at the gate, looks like him, talks like him. Calls himself Max." 

That caught her attention. "I'll be right down," she said. Led took off running. Max came alongside her in the doorway, face dry but shirt a little damp. He frowned thoughtfully. 

"Something I need to worry about?" she asked. 

He shrugged and grunted. 

The guards still had 'Max' outside the gates. Furiosa was struck by the similarities: from the jacket to the pants to the short height and broad shoulders. He lounged over the roof of his black, dusty car - a car that Furiosa recognised. Her Max froze at the sight. 

'Max' looked down from his contemplation of the open blue sky. 

"Brother!" he called. 

Trance-like, Max stepped into the desert. They shook hands, and then embraced with a lot of shock and something like relief. 

"How'd you find me?" Max asked when they parted. 

"News travels," 'Max' said. They had different accents, Furiosa could tell: her Max was much more closed on his vowels, while 'Max' lilted up at the end of some of his words. 

Seeing that Max wasn't threatened by this lookalike, she stepped forward and offered her hand. "I'm Furiosa." 

'Max' clasped her hand warmly in his. His skin was rough from Wasteland life, and he ran as desert hot as her own Max. "Max Rockatansky." 

Furiosa's brows raised to her hairline with disbelief. "How do you know each other?" she asked diplomatically, because there was something - something in the eyes, maybe, and in the jaw and mouth. 

'Max' smiled. Furiosa's breath caught. Max shot her a look, narrow and indecipherable. 

"Half-brothers," 'Max' said. 

She looked pointedly between them both. "With the same name?" 

'Max' scuffed the back of his head, while her Max looked at his feet. "Interesting father," her Max said. 

"Womanising bastard," 'Max' agreed. Furiosa had known enough womanising bastards in her life not to need the details. 

"Are you here for trade?" she asked, gesturing back at the walled Citadel. 

His eyes - blue-green like her Max - drifted over the large walls and even larger mesas. "A little," he said. Then he looked back at her Max. "Mostly here to check up on him." 

"Come on in," Furiosa said. "There's parking for your car." 

She and Max walked ahead of the crawling Interceptor. Max stayed quiet, subdued. Furiosa was bubbling with questions. Together they led 'Max' to a park by the chop-shop. He left it with the Warboys with nary a flinch, told them with something like cheer in his voice, "It's rigged to blow if someone touches it." 

Furiosa found herself smiling. 

With Max being even more reticent than usual, Furiosa ended up talking to the newcomer more. The three of them toured the Citadel together, up to the gardens and down to the houses and all through the winding corridors filled with children and laughter. 'Max' was a good deal more talkative than his brother, but there were some similarities she noticed beyond the physical: his twitchiness, his winces at loud noises, his need to keep his back to the wall at all times. 

They shared more than blood, that was for sure. 

But he was funny. Not the wry dark humour her Max let out on occasion, but actually funny. He told stories. At evening meal they sat with the Sisters and he made them laugh. Furiosa, pressed shoulder to hip between her Max and his brother, laughed with them. 

She felt very warm. 

When the night was growing long and the mess hall emptying, Max leaned into her side and ticked his head right. Furiosa nodded and stood. "Good night everyone." There was a chorus response. Yet, as she stepped away, Max did not follow her. She turned; he was bent next to his brother, whispering in his ear. It seemed to be something of an argument, and Furiosa was just preparing herself to intervene when they both glanced at her, twin stares of hot petrol blue. 

Max clapped his brother on the shoulder. They stood up in sync and moved as one to stand next to Furiosa. They were the same height, a shade shorter than she. They waited for her to lead them. 

Licking her lips gone suddenly dry, Furiosa nodded and walked off without a word. They followed. 

It was a short trip to Furiosa's room but she was conscious of every step, every echoing footfall behind her, their three breaths panting overloud in her ears. The pressure of their eyes felt like a weight on her shoulders, and she walked straighter, firmer because of it. 

It was a relief to get through the door, to turn and face them again. Max slid the bolt home. 'Max' pulled a bottle of something golden and shimmery from his jacket pocket. He offered it to Furiosa with a little shake and a smile. 

"Can the lady drink?" he challenged. 

She accepted the bottle, opened it and took a healthy swallow. It burned like sunlight pouring down her throat, settling into a hot pulsing ball in her belly. She passed it back. 'Max' smiled again and pulled a mouthful himself. 

"Don't drink it all," Max grouched, snatching the bottle out of his brother's hand; he took three large gulps just to spite them, and that was half the bottle gone. 

If Max was drinking then this Wastelander was definitely safe. Furiosa unbuckled her prosthetic and hung it on its hook, before sinking onto her bed with a worn sigh. Max put his brace next to her arm and curled up with her. The alcohol buzzed in her teeth, tingled over her shoulders and wormed down her spine. 'Max' stood awkwardly in the centre of the room. Furiosa gestured to her right - empty - side. 

"You sure?" he asked, eyes flicking between her and Max, who was already supine, limbs loose and face relaxed. 

Max grunted. "If you want," Furiosa translated. 

After a pause, 'Max' climbed onto the bed with them. He gave the bottle back to Furiosa. 

The drink loosened her tongue, as it always did. "So how did you two meet? I'm assuming you didn't grow up with each other." 

"Nah," Max said, then fell silent. Furiosa rubbed his head fondly. She looked at the Wastelander to continue the story. 

He downed the last mouthful of booze, and Furiosa thought it was a shame it didn't last long. "Joined the police. Got called into the sarge's office and there's this kid sitting there." 

"Only a year younger," Max groused. 

"Claims he's called Max Rockatansky. The second, after his dad. Turned out pa had been busy that year." 

"Bastard," Max murmured. His brother nodded in agreement, grimacing. 

"Anyway, he signs up, we check in on each other every now and then. He comes to my - my wedding. And then the world goes truly to shit." 

"Thought you were dead," Max said. He levered himself upright, squinted at his brother. "You just disappeared." 

'Max' bowed his head, fingers plucking at the rough bottom edge of his jacket. "Yeah," he breathed. The volume of words unspoken filled the room, made Furiosa's head ache. Maybe it was a Rockatansky trait to swallow the important things deep inside. 

"You look quite similar," Furiosa said, damn-the-booze. They stared at her, then each other, assessing. 

"He's got that white streak though," Max argued, slurring. 

"And you've got that -" 'Max' gestured to the flick of hair that always defied gravity. Very, very privately, Furiosa thought it was cute, but she wouldn't share that thought with a soul, even under pain of torture. 

She rolled her eyes at them. "You're the same height. You have a similar build." She waved vaguely at them. "Same eyes," she said; her drunken fingers traced an orbit around Max's eye sockets, and then his brother's. "Same nose." Index sliding down the bridge of Max's nose, then his brother's. Furiosa felt her breath speeding up, blood blushing in her cheeks. Her nerve endings tingled, oversensitive. Either side of her, the two brothers had grown tense and still. "Same lips," Furiosa continued. When her hand traced over Max's mouth, he pressed a hot kiss to her skin that made her gasp. 

His brother did exactly the same. 

Who moved first was a little hazy in the drunk fog, but in moments Furiosa was half-sprawled across Max while he sucked shivery kisses into her neck. 'Max' pressed over her, chest-to-chest, his mouth hot and wet and hungry on her own. Furiosa gasped and writhed, pinned between them, twin sources of solid heat scorching her skin. Four hands roved over her, kneading her shoulders and skimming her sides and cupping her breasts and squeezing her hips. 

"Okay?" her Max rumbled in her ear as 'Max' mouthed along the line of her collarbones. 

She nodded, a little frantic. "Yes, yes," she moaned. 

Her shirt they wrangled off together. Max wormed out from beneath her and she collapsed back against the bed. She nearly screamed when both men rubbed their rasping beards over the tender skin of her chest. 

She did scream when they sucked her nipples into their mouths. 

The heat built quickly in her belly. Furiosa arched her back, holding both of them close with her hand on 'Max' and her stump on Max. She couldn't keep her hips still. 

It was Max who began to work his way down, knowing how impatient she could be. He made short work of her belt, helped to wrestle the tight leather over her hips and down her thighs. Furiosa knew she was wet, could feel it slick between her legs. It still made her gasp when Max lay over her pants - trapped at her calves by her boots - and blew against her swollen flesh. 

'Max' mouthed up her neckline to her lips and gave her a bruising kiss that left her breathless. He swallowed her cry when Max parted her folds and went to town. 

This was her favourite thing, and he knew it. Max wasted no time in licking up her juices, smearing his tongue over her clit before applying hard suction that made her cry out. 'Max' cupped her breasts in his hands, rolling the bud of her nipple between thumb and forefinger as he sucked on her tongue. Furiosa writhed beneath the pair of them as she fell apart. 

Her first orgasm was quick and sharp like lightning, as always. Max didn't let up, coaxing her into a second, and a third, a string of little orgasms that had her rolling her hips hard against his jaw. On the fourth, her legs tried to clamp around his head, overstimulated, and Max backed off, crawling back up her body. He turned her face with a gentle hand, away from 'Max', to share a salty wet kiss. 

She barely realised when 'Max' started to drift south until he was already settling between her thighs. She jerked at the first touch of his finger over the seam of her lower lips, tore her mouth from Max to stare down. He looked back, waiting for permission, his eyes bright with something like mischief. Max trailed hot kisses over her jaw and throat; she moaned when he bit at the juncture of shoulder and neck, head tipping back. 

'Max' slipped his fingers between her folds, parting them to the room's cold air and his hot breath. His skin was rough as he skated through her wetness, circling around her hole then around her clit in a looping figure-of-eight. The first blur of his trigger finger over her clit made her jump; the second had her gripping onto Max's hand with iron strength. She just caught sight of his wicked grin before he dived in tongue-first. 

Max held her firm as her body shook from the stimulation, the fingers rubbing hard and rough on her clit while a tongue fucked into her hole. She rolled her hips into it, pressed her teeth into the meat of Max's shoulder and keened when the waves of pleasure shuddered through her again. 'Max' worked her through it, elbows on her thighs to keep her more or less down. 

She was just off the crest and burning up for more when 'Max' trailed two fingers to her hole and she froze with the too-familiar spike of curdling fear. 

"No!" she gasped, and tried to slam her legs shut on his head. 'Max' immediately pulled back, kneeling awkwardly on one leg. His face was shining in the moonlight trickling through the window. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Max murmured. His hands cradled her head, gentle thumbs stroking the curves of her skull as he pressed fluttering kisses to her cheeks. "It's okay, it's safe, you're okay." 

It was hard work to calm her breathing down but Max was patient, ever-present; she almost forgot his brother was there at all. 

The panic melted out of her in degrees, leaving her knotted up with tension in Max's arms. She could fight like this, through this, if she needed to, but the best part about having Max there was that she didn't. He was reliable. 

He pressed his forehead against hers, heedless of sweat. They shared several long, slow breaths. "You're okay," he said. 

"I'm okay," she said. Stroked her hand up the back of his neck and through his hair and felt _okay_. 

Max pressed a kiss against her lips and she could feel him smirking. "Gotta make sure," he said. Furiosa huffed a laugh and nodded. 

"D'you want me to go?" 'Max' asked softly. Max shrugged one shoulder, checked with Furiosa. 

"No," she said. When he continued to look dubious, she held out her hand, beckoned him closer. He lay gingerly beside her, head propped on one hand. "I don't like things inside. Just a tongue, but - no fingers and no cocks." 

"Should've told you," Max said. "Sorry." 

'Max' frowned so hard, he looked more like her Max than ever. Furiosa leaned across to press a scorching kiss against his lips. 

"I'm fine," she said. And she was - particularly with Max kneading at her shoulders. "Take my boots off?" Whether it was a question or an order didn't seem to matter, as both men shuffled to her feet to ease off her boots, and her pants too. Furiosa leaned back against the wall, utterly naked, looking at the two clothed men knelt either side of her waiting for her command. 

She was definitely okay. 

Stretching the last stress out of her back, she slid down a little and let her legs fall open. "Come on then," she challenged. 

Max moved first, kissing up her leg. 'Max' copied him, and together they worked their way up, undoing her with soft plush lips and teasing licks and firm fingers massaging the muscles. Her Max settled comfortably between her thighs like it was his favourite place to be, while his brother continued up, over her pubic bone and along the valley of her breasts. She hauled him close for a searing kiss when Max licked a long stripe over the seam of her lower lips. He hitched her legs over his shoulders and lay flat on his belly. She quivered at the feel of his tongue smoothing sinuously over folds. 'Max' cupped her face in his hand and sucked her bottom lip between his own, laving it with his tongue. His arm was strong around her shoulders, his chest firm when he pulled her against him, much warmer and softer than the bare rock wall yet sturdy enough that when she came - again, in a few minutes, with Max licking sloppy at her drips - he kept her upright. 

Furiosa couldn't tell how long Max was down there, working her with his lips and his tongue and his ridiculous stubble. She didn't know how many times he made her come, writhing on the mattress, her hand gripping whatever was closest, sweat sheening her skin. She lost herself in the dizzy whirl, Max sucking her clit, 'Max' sucking her tongue, their hands trailing over her belly and breasts and thighs. 

Eventually, though, Max lowered her legs off his shoulders, came up gasping for air and his face soaked. Furiosa was abuzz, tingling all through her extremities. She welcomed him into her arms with a sloppy kiss that missed the mark and smeared the scent of her over her own chin. 

'Max' turned her head and licked the wet right off her. His hand drifted down in lazy swoops while Max rested his forehead against her neck and breathed. 

"Got any more in you?" 'Max' murmured in her ear, as his fingers skirted the line of her bush. 

A part of her was very tempted, but mostly she was tender and tired and turning cold. 

She clasped her hand over his, pulled it up to her mouth to kiss the tips of his fingers. His mouth quirked. 

Max recovered enough to pull the blankets, tucking them in around Furiosa, though the pair of them bookending her was probably more effective. With sleep tugging at her, Furiosa closed her eyes and curled into Max's warmth. 

"What about ...?" she heard 'Max' murmur after a while, when he obviously thought she was asleep. Furiosa kept her eyes shut to listen in without disturbing them. 

Max grunted. "I don't - can't. You can use the lavvy down the corridor. It's private. Door locks." Oh; she understood now. 

The Wastelander shuffled off the bed as gently as he could; his boots were heavy as he walked out the door. 

"You alright?" Max whispered, hand stroking over the fuzz of her hair. 

"Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on tumblr for [more Mad Max mayhem](http://fadagaski.tumblr.com).


End file.
